


Prayer in D

by Cyrelia_J



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Light BDSM, M/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 12:27:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13927167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyrelia_J/pseuds/Cyrelia_J
Summary: Garak reflects on the curious culture differences on the matter of fellatio while Julian pleasures him. He doesn't quite understand Julian's love of the act, but he thinks that he might be made a convert. Julian on his knees? That might be one of his favorite things of all.





	Prayer in D

**Author's Note:**

> I'm probably going to hell for this but blame Fall Out Boy's new song church for this one. Now I'll confess to having a bit of an oral obsession people don't quite get and it probably bleeds into a lot of what I write. I also have a bit of an odd headcannon about Cardassians (if they even consider fellatio at all) to be a big taboo that's just not done which is fun to play with.

_"If you were church I’d get on my knees..."_

 

Julian loves getting on his knees in front of Garak. Garak still doesn’t quite understand no matter how many times Julian’s explained it to him. There have been men who have betrayed their entire families, who have sentenced others to certain death to avoid being on their knees in front of him. Even outside of the blessed interrogation room where such actions are forced by divine right at the behest of the ordained inquisitor, Cardassians simply do not willingly prostrate themselves in such a manner. Garak could never conceive of sinking to the floor, hands bound behind his back, unless forced with the threat of a pain stick.

 

But Julian can and does.

 

Julian looks up at him, his face so enraptured that it makes Garak feel once again like that godly figure drawing out a sacred confession. Julian looks up at him and his mouth is open, panting, his chest heaving, painted red with thin strips that will remain until Garak says otherwise. _I need to know... I need to trust that you can hurt me._ It makes him feel endlessly powerful once more in a new world where even Bajoran janitors cast a defiant eye in his direction. 

“Please,” Julian will beg him supplicant, naked, wrists always tied with rough sisal rope that scratches the skin and digs in deep. Julian insists that it be sisal rope. That’s the only demand he makes before Garak begins.

 

He’s slow with the the zipper and he knows now that it must be a long drawn down zzz _zip_. Julian can almost climax from the sound alone if Garak is diligent: if he draws the moment  just right. 

“Please...” Julian will beg with more need. That’s the only word that he’s allowed to speak and Julian has become a lovely disciple of inflection, mastering the “please it hurts” to the “please I’m scared” and oh does Garak love the prayer of pain when it passes Julian’s lips. Garak feels like Julian’s screams can manifest the Ancients from the dead.

 

Julian loves screaming for Garak.

 

“Is having it in your mouth really the communion that you want today, Julian?” Garak asks this even as he everts, as he allows himself that vulnerability before Julian’s seductive, sensual mouth.

“....please...”is gasped after a shaky breath, is gasped as if Julian might die without it. Garak gives it to him slowly, letting the tip brush the side of Julian’s face, drawing left to right, up down down, watching Julian’s legs quiver and his own heavy rod hang, dripping anticipation to the floor. Julian remains a willing vessel, holding Garak’s eyes beatifically until the moment Garak allows the head to pass his lips. Julian’s eyes slide shut then with a shiver tasting divinity, letting Garak gift every inch to him slowly, torturously until he’s practically sobbing with a full messy mouth. A Cardassian would never allow something as sacred as the mouth to be violated in such a manner but...

 

Julian isn’t a Cardassian and Julian’s mouth was made for his cock.

 

Sometimes Julian will peak when Garak’s hands fall to the back of his head holding him there, letting his pulse beat out through a throbbing echo to his throat. Garak loves the lush palette, the tension of Julian’s throat, and even Julian’s teeth sliding smoothly over the ridges of his shaft like pearly polished glass. Julian tells him that the mouth, the throat, is not an erogenous zones in humans. Garak is sure that he’s lying because Julian never fails to cry out and hitch high like one of the mythical seraphim he speaks of singing out like that oral violation is a carnal revelation. The harder Garak drives in, the harder Julian sings and Julian swears each time Garak spills down his throat, that he sees the face of God. Garak feels like a god when he spills and spills, prick throbbing thick until his come spills out the sides of Julian’s mouth.

 

He always ends up having to catch himself on Julian’s shoulders lest he fall to Earth as well. 

 

Julian tells him that he’s an agnostic- that he doesn’t particularly have any use for God or Monsters or the underworld. Garak says the same even as he’s sure Julian is one of the incubi from the old myths he likes to speak of. Julian tells him that he has little use for fire and brimstone. Garak has little use for such things either- better left to Bajorans and mystics- but he also knows that there absolutely is a Hell, and it’s fiery paradise inside Julian’s perfect mouth. He doesn’t understand how civilizations on Earth haven’t fallen to such addictive ecstasy and Julian smiles and says playfully that in some tomes of the ancient past they had. Garak will think then, each time, every time, as Julian’s eyes pour desire and devotion up to him in equal measure of the first time they had done this. He had asked Julian then, what the humans called it. Julian hadn’t answered right away, considering his words as if there were some greater meaning than a simple sexual act. He’d looked at Garak then, a last swirl of his tongue around his soiled sticky mouth and gave him the most sinful smirk that Garak had even seen him make.

 

“We call it, going to church.”

**Author's Note:**

> Want more stuff like this and story updates? You can follow me on Tumblr at cyrelia-j.tumblr.com


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